Strawberry Shortfics
by Dread Pirate Rinja
Summary: A series of short ficlets written for the 12 Days of Ichigo Torture challenge at the IchiRuki community on LiveJournal. Various genres and ratings. Happy Birthday, Ichigo!
1. Day 1: Suicidal

_I just completed a challenge called "12 Days of Ichigo Torture" at the LiveJournal IchiRuki community; this is the result. Most of these were very rushed, and none were beta read. There will be 14 individual drabbles and ficlets total (I got double-bunnied on two of the prompts), and I apologize ahead of time if I'm spamming anyone's inbox. I debated posting these here, but figured why not. I kind of like how a few of them came out, and it was fun writing Ichigo for a change.  
_

_In other words, this is mostly to prove that I'm still alive and writing! At least a little. 8D And I couldn't think of a better title, so I apologize for the tackiness. LoL.  
_

_Hope you enjoy! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. :3  
_

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_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for a non-profit entertainment purpose._

_**Warnings:** Some strong language, spoilers for current manga arc (with some straying from the actual story line in order to fit the prompt, shame on me!)._

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_July 4 Prompt: Guilt Trip_

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**Suicidal**

It isn't so much the fact that he knows he's fucked up badly. That much is entirely obvious to him the moment Ulquiorra taunts him with Rukia's death. If he hadn't come barging into Hueco Mundo without so much as a word of explanation to why he thinks she never should have followed, she never would have had to die.

It makes him wonder if it's worth it, especially once he sees that Orihime is not only physically well, but _mentally _prepared to stay exactly where she is. She's made up her mind, now at the cost of at _least _Rukia's life. That is, if Ulquiorra isn't simply trying to get under his skin. He sincerely hopes that such is Ulquiorra's intention, but he has his doubts.

Every moment spent dwelling in this room is a moment spent away from Rukia's side. If Rukia isn't already dead, she might be dying; and if she's dying, Ichigo wants to be there with her. Either way, Ichigo hates himself a little more for the fact that he's started this by not keeping a closer eye on Orihime in the first place, or making sure Rukia never stepped foot in Hueco Mundo. He wants to be with her if she is breathing her last, even if it means she can berate him for being a first-class idiot. The fastest way to her side is through the Espada he currently faces.

Ulquiorra is taunting him again when he turns to leave, and this time, Ichigo knows that Ulquiorra never intended for him to leave without a fight. If Rukia is truly dead, perhaps the outcome doesn't matter so much anymore.

And if that is the case, Ichigo has nothing left to lose.

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	2. Day 2: Directionally Challenged

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for non-profit entertainment purposes._

_**Warnings**: Strong language._

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_July 5 Prompt: Tongue Lashing  
_

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**Directionally Challenged**

"You're going the wrong way – you just missed a left turn."

She smirked when she felt Ichigo's shoulders tense under her hands from her perch on his back.

"Am not!"

Rukia sighed dramatically and casually moved her arms around so that the Hollow-detecting device Urahara had provided her was in his line of vision.

"This is where we are," she pointed, "and this is where the Hollow is. You missed _that _turn."

"Your little machine's broken; I can fucking _see_ that I'm going the right way," Ichigo growled, freeing one hand from under one of her knees to bat the device away from his face. "And get that damn thing out of my way; I can't see with you waving it in my face like that."

"Well, can you see or can't you?" She gave it an extra little wave just to irritate him further.

"Fuck you, Rukia!"

"That isn't such a nice way to speak to a female according to your social standards, Ichigo," Rukia said, tone bordering on condescension. She pulled the indicator out of Ichigo's face to look at it more closely again. "I thought you were more of a gentleman than that. And no, you're not going the right way – the Hollow isn't moving in this direction."

"Well, who are you going to trust more – Urahara's inventions, or me?"

Without missing a beat, Rukia replied, "Urahara's inventions, of course."

Ichigo's shoulders tensed more, and he suddenly went very quiet. Rukia belatedly realized that he'd issued a challenge, and that she'd just shot down the relationship of trust she'd been trying to build for quite some time. Ichigo kept running, but now there was a horribly heavy and awkward silence blanketing the very small space of air between them. With a muffled sigh, Rukia looked back down at the indicator. There was still no sign ahead of them of any sort of surreal disturbance, or anything remotely Hollow-like.

"Ichigo–"

"Shit." He muttered the word so quietly that she barely heard him, and his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. "Fine. I get it. Which way is the damn thing?"

"Back the other way," she said, "and then take the next left. We can head it off by a few intersections if we go that way."

Ichigo complied with a frustrated grunt. She really had hurt his feelings, but he'd just have to get over it if he was that sensitive about asking for directions. Typical male ego.

Then she looked down at her indicator again, and nearly swore aloud.

"Ichigo?"

"What?" he snapped.

"We missed another turn."

For a moment, Rukia was incredibly grateful for the fact that most people wouldn't hear the scathing language pouring loudly from Ichigo's mouth as they raced down another back alley.

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	3. Day 3: Incubus

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for non-profit entertainment purposes._

_**Warnings**: Dark and psychologically weird, some potentially disturbing imagery, strong hints of violence, mild spoilers for current manga arc with divergent!future (depending on how you look at it ;3)._

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_July 6 Prompt: Whipped_

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**Incubus**

Everything from the back of his neck down was on fire, so much so that he barely registered any sort of impacts other than the fact that the already-blurry world before him rocked to the distant sound of repeating sharp cracks.

It wasn't his fault. He didn't do it. He wasn't the one responsible. And he kept telling himself this over and over, in a feeble attempt to erase the memories of a very vivid nightmare that had managed to manifest itself in reality. Everyone else believed otherwise now, he was sure. He wasn't sure he believed himself, either.

The other half of him cackled hollowly in the back of his mind in a wordless taunt that perhaps he hadn't realized just how far all this had gone. He couldn't even agree with himself on how everything had gone so horribly wrong.

Wrong place, poor timing, not a scratch of preparation.

There was once a time in which his memories were fond of this place, where he had come here at first as an enemy, and then had managed to find reality through the illusion. But either that illusion had returned – and it had all been one long, happy dream – or that too had been an illusion and this was the reality. The last thing he remembered with any sort of clarity was that he had been on his way to rescue Orihime from Aizen's clutches, and was on the edge of success in that endeavor before he found himself back in Soul Society in manacles, in a great deal of pain and with a lot of enemies.

They said he had done something horribly wrong. And every time he asked what he had done, he was answered with that same _crack_ that just barely preceded a stripe of fresh, hot pain on his naked back.

His other half snickered again, obviously pleased that the King had yet to place the puzzle pieces together. That bastard knew something – or he had been the one to do whatever it was Ichigo was being blamed for.

There was a foolish, childish voice in the back of his mind that – every so often – gave a keening cry for Rukia. Rukia could save him. But Rukia wasn't here, and every thought of her that crossed his mind had his Hollow half crowing in delight. Something had happened to her, and this time, the usual fiery determination to fix it refused to be summoned. _He _had done something to her.

With the next _crack_, stars blotted out what was left of his blurred vision.

His eyelids snapped open, and he sat up in his own bed, back at home, drenched in sweat. Rubbing a hand across his eyes, he gulped in as much air as he could in an attempt to calm his pounding heart and bring his harsh breathing back to normal. A soft, feminine snore came from behind the closed closet doors; the sound surprisingly soothed the anxious tension from his shoulders like an ointment, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Rukia was _here_, and she was fine.

But when he turned to lay back down to sleep, his back and shoulders distantly ached from memory, and he couldn't seem to tell himself it was all just a bad dream.

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	4. Day 4: Alarm Clock

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for non-profit entertainment purposes._

_**Warnings**: Crack, and some very mild innuendo. Maybe. ;3_

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_July 7 Prompt: Water_

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**Alarm Clock**

For the first time in a long while, Ichigo is having a fabulous dream. Everything is going well, his family is safe and happy, and he doesn't have to worry about Aizen or Espada or shinigami at all anymore. In fact, they never existed in this dream. Best of all, Rukia is still there, but she isn't a bitch.

In fact, she's about to –

Cold water hits his face, and suddenly the dream vanishes into thin air as he sits up, gasping and sputtering angrily and blinking water from his eyes as it drips down from his hair. Once he clears his vision of water, he sees his father's smiling face as he holds an incriminating mostly-empty bucket of water in one hand.

"_Gooooood morning, my wonderful son!_" Isshin crows. Ichigo simply decks him on the way to the bathroom, feet squishing uncomfortably against the wet carpet.

Ichigo decided he needed to have a talk with Yuzu about their father's new forms of waking up the family.

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	5. Day 5: Bad Company

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for non-profit entertainment purposes._

_**Warnings**: Matsumoto Rangiku. Which you can assume means boob jokes, booze, swearing, and some violence._

_Special Note: This particular piece is based off of Kellen's __**awesome**__ AU _Limitless, _which – if you haven't already caught on to the absolute brilliance of it – you should go read now. (Yes, I have her permission to borrow her premise. This is a little ahead of what she's got written/posted, in case it wasn't clear.) There might be a little influence from Steal the Sky in here, too. (Steal the Sky is a RP on LiveJournal that's loosely based on _Limitless_; I RP Luppi there, and it's loads of fun!)_

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_July 8 Prompt: The Rack_

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**Bad Company**

One thing Ichigo learned quickly was just how tiring _running _could be. Not the general sense of running as in the action of exercise, but more in the sense of _fleeing_ – except, _fleeing _sounded far more cowardly. So he was running.

At least this time, he wasn't the only one trying to get away. He'd run into his short, white-haired companion on a dock, both wounded, both running from the same thing... maybe. Hitsugaya hadn't exactly been forward about that issue, but Ichigo had the feeling that something bigger than he realized was going down if a ship captain – young as the kid was – was on the run from his own employer.

They'd made it off that planet somehow – Ichigo was surprised to find that Hitsugaya was temporarily short a pilot, of all things, and Ichigo had managed to fill in – only to find themselves constantly jumping from place to place. Until the _Lily_'s pilot returned, Ichigo had been offered the position, and he'd gratefully taken it. Piloting – even temporarily, and even if they were technically fugitives – was a far better job than delivery service. Hell, it was better than being _dead_.

He had no clue what the current planet's name was. All he knew was that he'd flown them there on instruction – he wasn't the navigator, damn it – and that they were (for the moment) safe. Hitsugaya was a surprisingly good captain for his youthful appearance, though he ran a pretty tight ship, even if his usual crew never seemed to quite take him as seriously as he'd like. But there was a level of trust between all the crew members that Ichigo respected.

That level of trust was half the reason that they'd been given some free time on the current planet, Ichigo was certain. The other half was that everyone seemed to be suffering from cabin fever and desperately needed some time planet-side. Didn't matter where, as long as they weren't caught.

As soon as they'd been cleared to settle their feet in the dirt, Ichigo took off in search of a proper bar. He wasn't typically the type to favor a good strong drink, but he figured that after the last however long they'd spent on the run, he _needed_ one. Badly.

And so, he quickly found himself sitting with the _Lily_'s buxom lieutenant, Matsu– err, _Rangiku _(she said off-duty, he would call her by her first name), at a seedy bar Rangiku said was called _The Saddle Rack_. Normally, bar names wouldn't bother him – they were all tacky as hell, anyway – but when his companion was a particularly robust female? The rack jokes got _old_. Fast.

She seemed used to the attention, and simply ignored the cracks coming her way about her... rather endowed physique. But really, it embarrassed Ichigo to find that half the occupants of the bar were giving him either seething glares, or approving nods. He wasn't sure that he appreciated either gesture.

They settled at the bar, and after a couple of beers, Rangiku seemed even friendlier than she usually was – which, if you didn't _try _to grab at her... assets, was pretty damn friendly – and had decided that she wanted to get to know the "cute little orange-haired pilot that Shirou-chan _(don't tell him I called him that!) _dragged home."

Ah. Another thing Ichigo had learned during his time aboard the _Lily _was that Matsumoto Rangiku rarely asked empty questions, no matter what tone of voice or manner of speech she used to cover it up. She was doing a background check of her own, probably to make sure that her captain's judgement hadn't been blurred by blood loss. Which it might have been, at the time, but Ichigo wasn't so well off himself at the time.

Well, sometimes, the truth didn't hurt, especially since it really wasn't Ichigo's fault that he was on the run. He carefully avoided mentioning that weird girl who he'd run into just before he realized that Grimmjow – that grinning maniac had called himself that – was trying to kill him for an object he was pretty sure he didn't have. He didn't mention Grimmjow's name either, but he did let Rangiku know that he did not have the object for which he was being targeted for.

At least, he was pretty sure he didn't have it.

But he didn't have time to explain any further about the object itself, once Rangiku had asked about it, before a large, leering, scruffy bar regular – who reeked of booze – came up with an insanely inappropriate comment about, well, _those_. And while Rangiku normally ignored such comments, this guy didn't seem to want to leave her alone when she airily waved him off with a giggle and a quick goodbye.

The moment the man placed his meaty hand on Rangiku's arm, all hell broke loose.

Ichigo wasn't sure who threw the first punch, but it didn't really matter in a situation like this. She was certainly throwing her punches now; the first man who had grabbed her was on the floor, and – like in any good bar – he wasn't going to be the last. Ichigo looked at the downed man with wide eyes for only a split second before his own vision exploded in white; the downed fellow apparently had bar buddies with him. Shaking his head clear of the stars, he ducked when he saw another fist flying at his face.

In a matter of seconds, the bar they were sitting at had turned into a roving brawl, accentuated by shouting and the occasional sound of breaking glass as beer bottles and glasses were being thrown and used as weapons. Once he tripped the guy swinging at him, Ichigo checked over to make sure Rangiku was faring well, only to see her nail another man's jaw with a sharp upper-cut. She was obviously experienced in bar brawling, and he felt suddenly outclassed.

Not that he was having much trouble, mind you. His head hurt a little, but he was still managing to duck and weave his way away from the mass of drunkenly enraged occupants that were crowding the bar. He hoped Rangiku was following him.

Hitsugaya was going to be _pissed_ if he knew they'd gotten themselves into a fight here, especially after he'd told them to lay low.

Breaking glass was the only warning he had before another sharp pain burst through his skull, and the world went dark for a moment. When he slowly returned to reality, he saw that Rangiku had his arm draped across her shoulders, and that they were rushing through back alleyways and were – he assumed – headed back to the ship.

"Good, you're awake!" she chirped. "Can you walk?"

Grunting, Ichigo found his feet and staggered slightly as the world tilted and dipped, his stomach threatening to upturn his entire evening meal.

"Okay, good enough," Rangiku said, grabbing his arm again to steady him as she pulled him towards the docks.

"God, I hate bars," Ichigo managed to groan.

Rangiku giggled. "Aww, that wasn't so bad now, was it?"

"_You_–"

He yelped as Rangiku gave a hard tug on his arm. "Keep moving!"

No wonder nobody else had volunteered to go with them. It finally occurred to Ichigo: Rangiku probably tended to do this. Often. He made a vow then to _never _go to the bar with Rangiku again.

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	6. Day 6: Confirmation

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for non-profit entertainment purposes._

_**Warnings**: Mentions of violence and injury, and some strong language. (Ichigo, shame!)_

_I think I liked this general idea the best, but that might be just me. 8D;_

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_July 9 Prompt: Silent Treatment_

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**Confirmation**

Waking to a world of pain was not Ichigo's idea of a good morning. Or whatever the hell time of day it was; he didn't even remember falling asleep in the first place. His eyelids felt like leaden weights, and even when he did manage to force them open, his vision swam and blurred until he felt like he was going to throw up.

Someone was holding his hand tightly with two hands, and another set of hands pressed harshly into his chest and made him hurt all over again. When the ache finally eased up, it occurred to him that maybe he _hadn't _fallen asleep last night; the subconscious voice told him that something bad had happened earlier. _No shit_, he replied irritably. Nobody woke up to this amount of pain after a normal sleep.

Rukia was okay, though – and then he wondered why he thought of that.

The room was eerily silent, and Ichigo fuzzily wondered why everyone was so mad at him. He couldn't have fucked up that badly, could he have? Trying desperately to remember what had happened before he was out, he couldn't seem to quite recall what he had been doing. Something involving Rukia, obviously, and probably Rukia in danger. And if Rukia was in danger, then it was likely a bad run-in with a Hollow.

Oh. Now he remembered. They really had been dealing with a Hollow. Ichigo thought he was winning that one, but... his memory was sketchy at best of the incident. He had to have taken a bad hit, or _something_, if he didn't recall any of the last however long he'd been laying here. If Rukia was okay, though, he could tolerate whatever had happened.

If she'd at least talk to him; it'd be much easier to have that extra reassurance that she was there, and that she was fine. Well, he _knew _she was there, but... her voice, at that moment, would be the best remedy he could think of. It kind of hurt his feelings to know that she might be mad at him for something he was pretty sure wasn't his fault.

Whoever was treating him was being quiet as well. Ichigo hadn't had the best look when he'd opened his eyes earlier.

_Talk to me, Rukia._

The pain seemed to get more intense as he tried to speak, but he felt a soft finger brush his lips. No talking. He couldn't even open his eyes again to pick up her expression.

Gods, it was hard not knowing what she was thinking, even though she was _right there_. He began to regret all those moments he'd told her to shut up; there was nothing more in the world he wanted now than to just hear her. And the fact that she was staying silent only made him more desperate to have verbal confirmation that everything was okay.

_One word, that's all I'm asking for. Just one word. Please. I didn't mean it._

But Rukia stayed silent.

There was a warm, glowing feeling near his abdomen, much like someone had lit a small fire near enough to give off heat, but not so close as to burn. The sensation spread through his stomach and eased all sorts of aches, much like a soothing balm, and it made his head spin even though his eyes were still closed. When he realized that he was slipping back into the dark, he found himself wishing once more that she could have at least let him know she was still here.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he woke again. The pain was significantly less, and all sounds sounded distant, as if he heard them from under water. Two voices were speaking quietly nearby, and for a moment, he lay content to simply listen. It was a significant improvement over the dead silence from before.

"Ichigo? Can you hear me?"

Frowning, Ichigo slowly opened his eyes and saw Rukia's blurred face above him. For a moment, she disappeared and said something to someone else in the room, something about _waking up_. A masculine voice replied, but Ichigo couldn't hear it. Rukia's face returned. She was smiling, and her hand reached out to brush against his cheek.

"Idiot," she murmured, voice hoarse. "Standing that close when that Hollow made that noise – were you _asking _to go deaf?"

And suddenly, everything made perfect sense. Rukia hadn't been mad at him – not any more than usual. She must have been speaking to him for a long time.

"Ichigo?"

He smiled. Everything was going to be just fine.

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	7. Day 7: Beginner's Luck

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for non-profit entertainment purposes._

_**Warnings**: Alcohol__, plenty of strong language, crack, potential OOC-ness. (Ack!)_

_Nii-sama: lit., "honorable older brother" (how Rukia addresses Byakuya)  
Hoppy Happy really is a type of Japanese beer; it's got 2 parts sake in it.  
Texas Style Hold'em is the type of poker I used; not sure if that's very clear. Oops!_

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_July 10 Prompt: Domination_

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**Beginner's Luck**

The cards blurred before Ichigo's eyes, and he squinted as he tried to make them out. He was pretty sure he had two kings, but all the face cards looked alike at this point. Frowning, he brought the cards closer to his face to verify.

"Damn, Ichigo, you're slower than Rukia," Renji noted offhandedly.

_Bastard. _Ichigo scowled in his direction with a derisive snort before he tossed four of his plastic chips at the growing pile. Rukia giggled when he missed.

"I raise you two," Ichigo snapped, pointedly ignoring Rukia.

"The bet was three, Ichigo, or did you lose count?"

"Fuck you, Renji. Read 'em and weep." Ichigo threw his cards on the floor with a smirk, nearly knocking over his fourth can of Hoppy Happy. He swore Rukia had to have picked out the sake-beer blend just because of the name; most girls _he _knew tended to favor the low-alcohol Asahi fruit blends.

"... That's junk, Ichigo."

"What the fuck you talking about? 'S three kings!"

"No, that's an off-suit queen and two jacks, which won't beat Rukia's straight flush."

"I win again!" Rukia squealed, scooping the chips and nearly knocking down her six – or was that _seven_ now? – cans of Hoppy.

Ichigo squinted again, and saw that Renji was right. "Fuck!"

"Man, you suck at pocky."

"It's poker, you dumbass."

"Whatever. Point is, you're losing to a couple of _beginners_. You suck."

"It's fucking _beginner's luck_, that's what it is!" Ichigo snapped. Then he took a long swig to finish off the last of his drink and made a face as the alcohol heavily hit his stomach. "How the _hell_ are you drinking so much of this shit, Rukia?"

"It's good!" she protested, reaching for another can.

"Oh hell no." Ichigo reached to grab her hand to stop her, but the movement sent his vision spiraling uncomfortably out of control, and his stomach lurched. He clamped a hand over his mouth on instinct.

"Ichigo...? Are you okay?" Rukia, forgetting her quest for another Hoppy, reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "You're looking a little green–"

"Mmfph!" Ichigo brushed her hand away and stood, stumbling away as quickly as he could to find a bathroom. Rukia and Renji exchanged blank looks.

"You think he's trying to get out of losing?" Renji asked, shuffling the cards.

"I think he had a little too much to drink." Rukia shrugged, opening another can. "I'm surprised he couldn't handle more than a couple beers. _Nii-sama_ could outdrink him, and Nii-sama's a lightweight."

Renji smirked. "Your brother _is_ a lightweight, isn't he?"

"I'll bet Nii-sama would like this Hoppy Happy stuff, though," Rukia said thoughtfully, holding up her can for better inspection. "It's got a little old school flavor to it."

"That'd be the sake."

"Oh." A pause. "There's sake in this stuff? I thought it was beer!"

Renji chuckled, shaking his head. They sat quietly as Renji continued shuffling the cards.

"I think I'm going to go check on Ichigo," Rukia said a moment later.

"You do that."

Renji watched as Rukia stood and easily walked down the hall, as if she hadn't had a drop of alcohol. One thing Ichigo had to learn was to _never_ challenge Kuchiki Rukia to a drinking contest. She'd been raised on prime sake; she would drink him under the table in nothing flat.

"_Fuuuuuck_." Ichigo's moan echoed down the hall.

"I think I like this game," Renji said to himself with a wicked grin as he gave the cards one last shuffle.

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	8. Day 8a: Basic Training

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for non-profit entertainment purposes._

_**Warnings: **__crack, some strong language_

_I got double-bunny'd on this prompt with two very different ideas. I personally like how the first one turned out better, but I liked the second _idea _better to start with (but not how it turned out, bah!). Ah, well. The second one is posted in the next chapter._

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_July 11 Prompt: Brainwashing, take 1_

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**Basic Training**

Urahara strikes again.

Ichigo recalls thinking that the last experiment of Sandal-Hat's that he'd tried was bad enough – even if it _did _ultimately work – and then he wonders how in _hell _he got talked into it this time around. Some kind of mental training program for shinigami, or whatever the hell Urahara calls it. Fucking with someone's brains isn't exactly what Ichigo thinks when he thinks of a good time, but Urahara insists that it'll make him stronger.

Well, then. Doesn't sound half bad, which is why Ichigo is sure something will go wrong, but he's still curious and he _knows_ that Urahara _knows _it'll be the selling point with him. But when Urahara starts sticking shit on Ichigo's head and face, he suddenly decides that thisisn't just a bad idea – it's a _really_ bad idea.

Except... now it's too late to do anything. Urahara flashes him a deceptive grin from behind his paper fan just before he pulls out a remote – _hey, where did that come from?! – _hits a button, and suddenly Ichigo's world is white.

When Ichigo's vision returns, his head is pounding with the worst headache he's ever had, his hands feel heavy and bruised, and he's being restrained by a binding kidou. A quick look around tells him that Renji's there with Urahara, they're all in the training zone beneath Urahara's shop, and that the area's practically been decimated. Doesn't matter that it was a desolate place to begin with; it's clearly been _pounded_ within an inch of its rocky life. Renji and Urahara look a little worse for the wear, too.

"Wh-what the _fuck_ did you do to me?" he tries to say, but his voice comes out cracked and squeaky, like he's been using his voice too much.

"Just a little basic training," Urahara replies _too _easily. Ichigo doesn't miss the relief that seems to cross his features. "How do you feel?"

"I hate you."

Urahara doesn't answer.

Renji never mentions the incident again later – not even after booze and physical threats – and Ichigo is left wondering what the _hell _went on after Urahara had hit the button. Sandal-hat-_bastard_ feigns innocence, but he never asks Ichigo to use that training program again.

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	9. Day 8b: Self–Destruction

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for non-profit entertainment purposes._

_**Warnings: **__vague-ish references to nastiness, dark/weird/divergent!AU-ish type stuff (again), strong language, mild spoilers for Soul Society arc_

_And here's the second one to the same prompt. Very different, yes? 8D_

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_July 11 Prompt: Brainwashing, take 2_

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**Self-Destruction**

There haven't been many times in which I've seen the King so afraid. He refuses to show fear in front of me, but he seems to forget that I can see _everything_, even if I don't always say anything. I _am _him, whether or not he chooses to admit it.

Almost every time he's frightened, it has something to do with that shinigami chick, Rukia. Or one of the King's precious friends, but lately that usually amounts to Rukia. Don't blame him for liking her – she is a fine piece of ass, if I do say so myself. This time isn't any different, except that it is. Something happened between him and Rukia, and it's bothering him.

I know he's scared shitless, uncertain. He thinks I did something. Hell, it isn't _my _fault this time. He may think it is, but I swear on Zangetsu that it isn't. He did this himself, and just doesn't want to admit it. I may enjoy taking a crack at him whenever I find an opening, but I refuse to take the blame for something that he's done on his own, especially if knowing that it isn't my fault causes him more pain.

Oh, it's so _delicious_, watching him freak out over a little act of indiscretion. Especially since it involves his dear Rukia, and because _he doesn't remember_. He's calling me out, challenging me, demanding to know what the hell he thinks I've done, but I think I'll just stay here and watch the show. The only problem I have not being in control for the time being is the fact that I can't see how she's reacting to all this.

It must be a thing o' beauty.

Although, if I were to voice my opinion, I think it probably isn't the King's doing this time, either. I have a feeling that Aizen has something to do with what happened; the man is a master of illusion, after all. That kind of power just... _mmm_. I can't imagine why Ichigo isn't drawn to that kind of person. It's the damn hero complex. Funny thing is, even though Ichigo and I are one and the same, it hasn't even occurred to Ichigo yet that he might not be at fault.

But then again, without that hero complex and that kind of knowledge, Ichigo wouldn't be tearing himself up right now. And if he doesn't pay attention to what's going on _here_, I'm going to most assuredly remind him that I'm not dormant. He thinks he's hurting now; when I'm through with him, my victory will be sealed.

And the first thing I'll do is thank this Aizen guy for starting the job for me. Whatever he's got going for him – if it has Ichigo this damn confused and troubled and self-destructing – it's _good_.

* * *


	10. Day 9: Graphic Design

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for non-profit entertainment purposes._

_**Warnings: **__crack, Ichigo's potty mouth_

_As one of the people in my LJ comments said, Matsumoto plus Photoshop equals bad, bad evil._

* * *

_July 12 Prompt: Humiliation_

* * *

**Graphic Design**

Ichigo had never felt the need to crawl in a hole and die so strongly as he did at that moment.

The day started off fairly normal; he quickly rose and got ready for class, waited ten minutes after Rukia left after he went out the door and made his way to class. He got to school a few minutes early, sat down at his usual seat, ignored the usual banter between his classmates and the shinigami that had infiltrated the school posing as students, and pulled out his notebook. A piece of paper fluttered down from his notebook, and just before he could bend down to pick it up, Keigo snatched it off the floor with an accusing glare. Then Keigo had a look.

From there, it went downhill.

All of a sudden, Keigo had turned bright red and began shrieking at Ichigo about something involving women and decency, tears streaming down the young man's face as he waved the paper furiously in the air. From the small glimpse Ichigo caught of it, it was a picture. He didn't remember ever putting a picture into his notebook.

Kojima snatched the picture away, and after a brief glance, he smirked.

"Way to go, Ichigo," he said, impish grin plastered on his face. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"What the–"

Ichigo never finished his question. Renji was behind Kojima, peering curiously over Kojima's shoulder. It took less than five seconds for Renji's face to go from curious, to beet red, and then rage. Ichigo yelped when Renji pulled him out of his seat by his shirt collar and slammed him into the wall.

"What the _hell _have you been doing to Rukia, you sick bastard?!" Renji demanded in a low hiss. "I thought you were better than this!"

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" Ichigo growled, pulling Renji's hands away from his shirt.

"Then how can you explain _this_?" Renji dropped one hand from his hold to shove a picture in Ichigo's face.

Ichigo squinted, and when the picture came into focus, he felt the blood rush to his face as he began sputtering, unable to form a cohesive sentence.

"That isn't mine!" he exclaimed.

"What was it doing in _your _notebook, then?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?"

"You're the one who's living–"

Ichigo slapped his hand over Renji's mouth, hissing him into silence. "God_damn _it, I didn't take that fucking picture, and it isn't fucking mine!"

"Then whose is it?"

"I don't know! Somebody had to have put it there, and–"

"What are you two idiots fighting about?"

Renji and Ichigo both started, turning nervously to look at Rukia. Laughing nervously, Renji slipped the picture behind his back and rubbed the back of his head with his free hand.

"Ah- it's nothing!" he said. "We're just... uh... we're just having a nice man-to-man conversation. Right, Ichigo?" He elbowed Ichigo in the ribs.

Ichigo shot a glare at Renji, and was spared having to answer when Keigo began wailing all over again, groveling at Rukia's feet. Rukia looked rather confused, and Ichigo hoped that Keigo's antics would continue to keep that up long enough for him to find a way out of his current mess before Rukia saw the picture.

That's when he saw Matsumoto snickering in the corner of the room.

Snatching the picture out of Renji's hands and storming over to the buxom woman, Ichigo shoved the picture in her face.

"What the fuck is this?"

"I just thought you needed a little... _encouragement_, Kurosaki-kun," Matsumoto said with a giggle. "What? Don't you like it?"

"Kurosaki-kun? What picture is Asano-kun talking about?" Rukia asked from behind him.

_Fuck!_

"N-Nothing!" he squeaked, whirling, and completely forgetting that he was still holding the picture in his hand.

With a curious expression, Rukia easily plucked the image from Ichigo's fingers and looked at it with a blank expression. Ichigo started sputtering again.

"I swear it isn't mine – Matsumoto-san–"

"This is fake," Rukia noted pensively. "I don't wear anything but Chappy's line of underwear."

Ichigo's mouth moved, but no words came out. Rukia continued wondering aloud – seemingly fascinated – about the workmanship of the manipulated image, and Ichigo whirled to glare at Matsumoto, who shrugged. She was still giggling.

"I. _Hate_. You," he snarled.

"Oh come now, you know you at least enjoyed the idea," Matsumoto replied with a grin.

And before Ichigo could come back with a retort, the chime rang and signaled the start of class. Matsumoto tossed him a wink before she sauntered to her seat, and Renji still cast a scathing glare at him every so often during class. Ichigo knew with a sinking feeling that he'd never live this one down.

* * *


	11. Day 10: Tyrant

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for non-profit entertainment purposes._

_**Warnings: **__mild language_

_I was told that I pulled a fast one on at least 3 people with this. I assure you, that was a rather happy accident. xD_

* * *

_July 13 Prompt: Bullying/Intimidation_

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**Tyrant**

One of the most valuable lessons Ichigo learned while growing up was how to defend himself in the face of people who – quite frankly – were larger and stronger than he was. His mother used to shelter him from these people when he was small, but after she'd died, he had to learn how to deal with them on his own.

Of course, the growth spurt he had in middle school helped _a lot_. So did the fact that one of his sisters was an aggressive tomboy, and though he always heard from others that she was trying to take after her big brother, he had a feeling that he might have picked up on some of her tenacity as well. And once his reputation at school had grown, he went from being the bullied to having the full capability of intimidating others who dared pick on him (or anyone he felt the strong need to protect).

It worked for him, for many years. There were times when he got himself in trouble because his reputation sometimes preceded him, but for the most part, he felt confident that he would never go back to being the one cowering in the corner, whimpering and pleading for help.

And it worked until his found the one person who could scare him more than any of the fiercest bullies he'd ever encountered. His old method had been to run and hide from those he knew would take advantage of his weaknesses, but... old methods, in this case, just didn't work anymore. Not that he was accustomed to running from his problems these days.

But fact of the matter was, the only person who could back him into a corner and make him beg for mercy... was himself. Or, at least, the other creature that dwelled in him and threatened to take over at any weakness he might show.

In his own mind, he was called King, but only so far as he could keep the other more frightening half at bay. The fact that something he couldn't entirely control had _that _much power over his thoughts and actions was _scary as hell_. And it wasn't so much the fact that he knew that maniacal voice that constantly taunted him from the back of his mind was indeed a powerful foe; it was more the fact that if _that _side of him ever came out, he wasn't sure if he could protect others – especially those precious to him – from himself.

That was the scariest, most intimidating thought of them all.

* * *


	12. Day 11a: Hypnosis

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for non-profit entertainment purposes._

_**Warnings: **__Dark, divergent-future-ish type AU-ish thing, angst._

_This prompt gave me a lot of trouble at first because most of the ideas I had were rather dirty (and I really, really am not willing to write smut), and then I asked Kellen what she thought of when she heard the word "deprivation." Her answer somehow ended up double-bunnying me._

_This one is more serious, the other one is more crack-ish. Again, I'm alternating between the two, haha. I like this general idea enough that I might use it later on for something else, though I don't particularly like how I wrote this piece._

* * *

_July 14 Prompt: Deprivation, take 1_

* * *

**Hypnosis**

In the deep, dark solitary, the only things that were left were the vague notions of existence, and the fact that he was once _not_ in this place. It had been so long since he'd seen, heard, touched, _known _– himself included. He once had a name, even, but he didn't remember what it was now; he hadn't heard it used in so long.

There was an image that he'd had, of a girl with black hair that trailed a little into her face. In his mind, he could see her blurred outline, but the details had long since faded. She was a precious person to him – that much, he recalled. But if she was so special to him, why had he forgotten her face? Why was it that her voice in his memories seemed so fuzzy and distant?

He didn't remember how he'd lost track of her, or even how he had ended up here. At this moment, it seemed so important to bring all these memories back to life, but an immeasurable amount of time had passed since he last had any memories to speak of.

There was nothing here in the dark, except whatever was left of him – and the last of him was fading along with his memories.

Until, suddenly, a sensation he had long ago forgotten spread along his limbs like fire, and the world painfully exploded in bright light. Voices sliced through the silence like an assassin's blade, stinging his ears and shattering the dark. And just as suddenly, that girl's face appeared before him, and he recalled every last detail he'd forgotten as they swam before his watery vision. She looked frightened, upset, and her lips were moving but the noise nearly drowned out everything she was saying. Except the one thing she kept repeating over and over as her hands grasped his face, every brush of her fingertips causing him a strange cacophony of searing agony and desperate pleasure.

_It's going to be okay, Ichigo – I've got you. Aizen's gone; I've got you._

And in that moment, Ichigo – _gods, a name! –_ realized that he'd nearly forgotten how to smile, and even though the sensation cracked his dry lips until they bled and tears steamed freely down his face, it was possibly the happiest moment of his bleak existence.

* * *


	13. Day 11b: Zombification

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for non-profit entertainment purposes._

_**Warnings: **__none (for once!)_

_The second installment on this prompt. By the by, "zombification" is an actual word. ;3_

* * *

_July 14 Prompt: Deprivation, take 2_

* * *

**Zombification**

Ichigo didn't really realize just how tired he was when one day, Koujima pointed out dark circles under Ichigo's eyes at lunch. Defensively, Ichigo had said it was Koujima's imagination, but unfortunately his body couldn't lie any further than that; he quickly fell asleep in their next class together. He woke to snickering and a rather unamused teacher, and shot a glare in Keigo's direction when he insinuated that Ichigo was probably... _busy _at night with Rukia.

Hell, it was bad enough that they knew he spent a lot of time with Rukia. If they knew that Rukia was actually living _in his closet_, he'd never hear the end of it.

When he got home and plopped down at his desk to start on his homework, the words blurred before his eyes, and all of a sudden the only thing he wanted most was a good night's rest for once. Rukia had been an absolute slave-driver of late, what not with all the Hollows showing up. Had she really been the only one covering this area when she had been on duty here? Ichigo shuddered to think that wherever Rukia had come from was so short-handed that they couldn't spare any extra help.

Ichigo didn't even realize he'd fallen asleep until something heavy hit his head, and he heard Rukia's voice yelling at him to drag his lazy ass up to go after yet another Hollow sighting. Ichigo groaned; with the large amount of homework he had tonight, he probably wasn't going to get his wish.

He made a mental note to have Kon drink up on coffee before he returned.

* * *


	14. Day 12: Freedom

_Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for non-profit entertainment purposes._

_**Warnings:**__ minor sensual-ish content, but it's supremely minor; and it's a little dark (again)_

_The final installment for the challenge! Happy Birthday, Ichigo, and I'm sorry that I'm not as giving in the sex department as most of the other challenge participants are. Haha._

_As always, feedback on any of these would be greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading! _

* * *

_July 15 Prompt: Bondage_

* * *

**Freedom**

In the end, there was a bargain.

A bargain wasn't how most people would expect a long, agonizing fight to end. Typically, those ended in death; this one, however, did not. Perhaps it was a better outcome for Kurosaki Ichigo, who – as the hero – should have won, but was well on his way to doing the exact opposite. Badly wounded and bruised and beaten, he was on the very last of his reserves during his fight with Aizen. He could no longer summon the Hollow within him; his alter-self had long since expired his use and refused to come out. And when Ichigo braced himself for the final blow, it came in the form of a statement.

"I will allow those precious to you to live, Ichigo, but only if you serve me."

At the time, it had seemed like the best possible option to take. Rukia was half-dead, and Soul Society's numbers had been horribly decimated in battle. The enemy showed no signs of tiring or expending all its resources; that could have either been a very good bluff, or they were just that much stronger. There had been more than enough evidence to suggest the latter's verity, and so Aizen's bargain had seemed like a pretty damn good deal at the time to Ichigo.

He wasn't so sure about that now, after he'd learned more of Aizen's plans just by default of being at the man's beck and call. Ichigo felt more like a pet dog than anything, trained and kept on a leash only to be released when he could serve his master's purpose. Every time he finished one of Aizen's harrowing tasks, he felt a little of himself disappear, and he wondered at some point if that was exactly what Aizen's goal was.

At first, Ichigo had balked against it, fighting to hang on to the shattered pieces of himself with everything he had. But as he saw parts of the puzzle of _himself _fade to nothing, it drained the fight out of him like a slow bleeding wound.

One day, Ichigo wondered if he'd ever been anywhere but by Aizen's side.

The nightmares no longer visited him at night after his missions, and he slowly began to care less and less about how he handled the tasks appointed to him. As long as the job was completed, he couldn't care less – to the point that he began getting reckless. Aizen told him time and again that he should be more careful with how he handled his life; it wasn't his place to decide what to do with it, after all. He'd given that responsibility to Aizen.

Then Aizen ordered him to kill Yamamoto, and whoever stood between him and his goal.

Ichigo had no qualms obeying such an order; he was no longer given the luxury of an opinion. It didn't matter whose blood he spilled with his drawn blade, or whose face he saw looking at him in shock as he infiltrated Seireitei with greater speed and force that would have utterly intimidated the old Ichigo. The small shred of him that was still left was secretly glad that he didn't encounter many shinigami he knew on his way to the First Division.

That small measure of relief faded the moment he stepped foot on the premises of the First Division headquarters. He felt his nearly blackened heart skip several beats as he skid to a stop. Standing there in his way was the one person he hoped he wouldn't have to encounter on this mission, the only person who could remind him why he was bound to Aizen in the first place.

"Ichigo," she said flatly, but her eyes were shining and lips trembling with emotion.

"Get out of my way, Rukia."

"It doesn't have to be this way."

"Move, or I will have to cut you down."

Rukia took one step forward, and Ichigo suddenly realized that she hadn't even drawn her zanpakutou. _Get her now, while she's defenseless! _the leashed portion of his mind insisted, Aizen's voice coming clearly through the order. But his hands were shaking so badly that he thought he was going to relinquish his grip on Zangetsu's worn and bloody pommel.

"I-I mean it!" he said, voice cracking with uncertainty, bringing Zangetsu up in front of him.

Rukia didn't seem to care as she placed both of her hands on either side of his face, and searched his eyes imploringly with her own. Her touch was like fire on his face, but her hands were so soft and _alive_ that he couldn't bear to pull himself away. His breath hitched as her thumbs brushed his cheeks just below his eyes, as if wiping away invisible tears.

"D-Don't–"

But he was relaxing into her touch, fingers growing cold and numb until Zangetsu slipped from his limp grasp.

"_Please_, Rukia..."

She suddenly pulled his face towards hers, and as her soft, warm lips brushed his he was sure his heart was about to shatter into a thousand pieces. The leashed half of him shrieked as it faded under her power, strength and courage and _life_ flowing back into him as if channeled from her very being. His hands – still shaking – circled around her back to pull her closer, and he whimpered as she pulled her lips away for breath. He fell to his knees as the final remnants of Aizen's collar in his mind burst into flame and disappeared, and he pulled Rukia to him in a tight embrace, burying his head into her shoulder as his body shook with sobs.

"It's going to be okay, Ichigo," Rukia whispered into his ear as she stroked his hair consolingly. "You're free."

_Not really, _Ichigo noted wryly. After all, Aizen's power over Ichigo was no match for Rukia's, and that was one bond he hoped would never be destroyed.

* * *


End file.
